Condolences
by Elriaen
Summary: Slight exploration of the friendship between McGonagall and Dumbledore. Deals with the aftermath of character death, but not included in story. NO, THERE IS NOTHING ROMANTIC GOING ON HERE.


_Edit: Corrected a few spelling mistakes and cleaned up a few over complicated sentences. 21/12/2012_

There were very few times that Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore wore his emotions openly on his face. However as he strode through the hallowed halls of the castle on this blustery April day, grief and concern were open upon the old man's wizened face.

Having reached his rather unwanted destination, Albus softly sighed and gathered himself up to his full height, bringing to his face its usual calm mask. The irony was one of the few who could always see through it was the woman behind this door. The very woman whom he was attempting to protect through it. Upon softly knocking and receiving no answer, as expected, the stately wizard entered.

The dignified office was as he remembered it from the days when he inhabited it himself, many of the same books on the shelves, the same dozing portrait beside the window which was wonderful to sit by to watch the sun rise in the morning over the mountains. As ever, his quick eye noticed the things that marked it as not his own though, the vase of Scottish wildflowers on the desk and most relevantly, the tartan cushion upon the reading chair which currently contained-

'Minerva.' He said to the tabby cat that watched him with unusually cold eyes. However Albus, knowing his friend well, did not take offense and only smiled a little sadly at her. At this the cat's eyes narrowed and her tail twitched in anger before she gathered up her legs and with the innate grace of her form, Minerva McGonagall leaped and transformed into the centre of her office.

'Is there something you needed, Albus?' the Transfiguration professor asked shortly, turning away from her friend's all too perceptive eyes. 'I'm rather busy.' She said, wafting a hand at the piles of paper on her desk.

Casting a glance over the perfectly ordered and completed piles of work, Albus coughed lightly and replied, 'Ah yes, I can see.'

Instantly the witch cast him a glare over her shoulder, as they both knew she was anything but busy. His tranquil smile did nothing to soothe her ire. All she could do was growl irritably in the back of her throat and return to the well-worn pacing route she was taking before her transformation.

Smartly stepping out of her way, the older wizard suddenly looked pained as he could no longer ignore what he had come here to say to her. 'Minerva, you have mine, and all the staff's deepest–'

'Albus do not dare tell me that I have your condolences, especially not including Mr Snape in that. I do not need or ask for them. I am grateful you have allowed me to move back to the castle, beyond that, I am fine.'

'Well my dear, you have them anyway. Including Severus.'

The growl Minerva gave this time was much louder as she realised the folly of attempting to argue with the man who had watched her grow up and knew her better than anyone else living. Living now, that is. Suddenly unable to contain the pain she was feeling any longer, the tough woman tightly shut her eyes. However, she was not quick enough to stop the solitary tear that slid down her gaunt cheek.

Instantly long fingers closed around her shoulders and in a moment neither of the two very private professors would ever allow from another, Minerva found herself pressed into Albus' shoulder, his hands steadying her trembling shoulders.

'He lived a good and full life Minerva, filled with so much happiness, especially in you.'

She did not relax into him, nor did she break down. The only indication of her accepting his comforting gesture was to mechanically lower her head slightly into his shoulder which may have been simply to hide the trails of tears. Her voice was still steady, though to those who knew her well, it was empty and broken.

'He could have had so much longer. All those thrice-blasted years I rejected him, those long months he spent loving me alone when we could have-'

'Minerva.' The headmaster said in a tone he had never before directed at her but one misbehaving students over the years would recognise. She sharply looked up at him in stunned surprise. 'Elphinstone never regretted it. Never once. And he would have berated you for doing this to yourself.'

'I know Albus! I truly do! I know my husband would have blinked at me with his stunned brown eyes and told me to stop but I cannot! I cannot face this!' Though the emotion in the broken-hearted witch's voice was heightened, she never lost control. She held herself proud and tall even in the face of losing the husband she had only had for three short years after only finding him after years of pain and war. Only her dark green eyes showed how lost in the maze of her own grief she was.

'Yet you will.' He said, the dead certainty and grim confidence in his voice lending her the smallest glimmer of hope. 'You will face this loss and win through it. Until then, dear Minerva, you have my condolences.'

From anyone else, those words would have been empty and full of pity, words Minerva McGonagall would have hated with all of her fierce independent pride. But from her closest friend, they offered what this friendship had always offered; an understanding without the need for explanation, a trust founded on the recognition that the other knew what pain was being suffered and a steadfast respect for each other. What else could she do but nod, swallowing back the relief that not everything in her world had changed? Understanding for the first time, that she could, in whatever distant future, live on without Elphinstone Urquart.

Understanding for the first time, what having deepest condolences truly meant.


End file.
